


Gee, Officer Gorgeous

by orphan_account



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, M/M, Patrol Cop!Harry, Street Artist!Eggsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, Harry was tempted to say yes to Eggsy's invitation if only to get the rest of the precinct to stop teasing him about having caught the eye of a street artist half his age. It certainly had nothing to do with Eggsy being handsome and charming (and he <em>was</em> a rather talented artist).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gee, Officer Gorgeous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sushicorps (Inclinant)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inclinant/gifts).



> This is probably pretty inaccurate, but let's just go with it.

Harry sighed in relief as he sank down onto the bench at the edge of the park. He’d been on patrol all morning and his feet were screaming at him.  He wriggled his toes inside his shiny black shoes and winced as it caused the muscles of his instep to throb.

He glanced over at the coffee stand on the corner, wondering if the lure of caffeine was strong enough to merit standing back up again. Glancing down at his feet, he shook his head. Coffee could wait until his break was over. He had thirty whole minutes of downtime and he planned on spending all of it relaxing on this bench before he returned to his patrol. He leaned back on the bench and tilted his head up, closing his eyes and drinking in the feel of the sun on his face.

He groaned as the walkie on his belt crackled.

“Hart,” came the amused voice of the dispatcher. “Looks like you’ve got another one.”

“Damn it, Merlin,” Harry moaned into the walkie. “I just sat down, can’t this wait?”

“I suppose it _could_ ,” Merlin replied. “But won’t your not-so-secret admirer feel jilted if you don’t come scurrying to admire his love note right away?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Harry replied without bite. “Where it is this time?”

“Not too far from you. Behind that little boutique on the corner of Fifth and Market Street.”

“On my way.” Harry groaned again as his feet protested the sudden end of their rest.

“Damn it, Eggsy,” he muttered as he began walking toward Market Street. “What is it _this_ time?”

* * *

 

Harry Hart had first met Eggsy Unwin at the precinct about three months ago. Eggsy had been arrested for graffiti-- _“Street art, yeah?”_ \--and Harry, who’d been walking through the holding area on his way to the evidence room for another case, had been distracted by the photographs the arresting officer, Percival Morton, was holding as he filled out the arrest report.

“Where are these from?” Harry asked, sifting through the photographs. “They’re quite good, actually.”

Percival raised an eyebrow at him. “It was sprayed on the back of Lou’s last night,” he said. “One of the busboys was out in the alley taking a smoke break and saw him, so we caught him easily enough.” He gestured behind Harry, who turned to see a young man, probably mid-twenties, slumped casually on the bench in the holding cell. He didn’t seem too upset about his predicament, unlike the two other people in the cell with him, who were muttering under their breaths and shooting glares at Percival and Harry.

Harry took one of the photos from Percival’s stack and walked over to the cell. “You did this?” he asked, holding up the photo so the young man could see it.

The young man grinned at him, causing a pair of dimples to flash in his handsome face. “D’you like it?” he asked, giving Harry a cheeky wink. Before Harry could reply, the young man dragged his blue eyes slowly over Harry’s body, looking back up and meeting Harry’s gaze unashamedly. “I’d be _happy_ to show you more where that came from, if you’re interested,” he purred. He sauntered the few steps across the cell and curled one hand around the bar right in front of Harry, propping one hip against the next bar over. “What’s your name, Officer Gorgeous?”

Fighting down a blush--he’d been flirted with by suspects before, for god’s sake, and this one couldn’t be much more than half Harry’s age--Harry shot the young man his best disapproving glare. “It’s _Hart_ ,” he said sternly. “Harry Hart.”

“I’m Eggsy,” came the reply, along with another roughish wink. “Don’t suppose you can let me out of here, can you, Harry?”

“You’ve been in here enough times, Eggsy, you know the rules,” Percival said from behind Harry.

“Aw come _on_ , Perce,” Eggsy cajoled. “I’ll be good.”

Percival raised a skeptical brow. “That’s what you said last time.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy conceded, “but I _mean_ it this time.”

“Sure, you do,” said Percival, nodding, before going back to his report.

Realizing the conversation was over, Eggsy gave Harry one last wink and loped back over to his bench. “See you around, Harry,” he called as Harry continued on his way to the evidence room.

* * *

 

Since then, Eggsy had been leaving more graffiti-- _street art_ \--around town, and, to Harry’s embarrassment, had been dedicating it all to him. The first one after Eggsy had been released had consisted of a photorealistic cup of coffee surrounded by the words HEY OFFICER GORGEOUS and five or six stylized question marks, painted on the back wall of a building that housed a café. Both Merlin and the two police officers who’d found the art thought it was hilarious.

“Got yourself an admirer, Harry,” grinned Roxy--Percival’s cousin and a newbie on the force.

“Looks like you got yourself a _date_ ,” said Merlin, shamelessly listening in over the radio. “How long’s it been since you got a leg over, Hart?”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry said. “I’m certainly not going on a _date_ with him; for god’s sake, Roxanne, he can’t be any older than _you_ are.”

“So?” Roxy replied with a shrug. “You’re not my type, but you’re pretty fit for your age, you know.”

“He’s also a criminal.”

“Barely,” said Merlin. “Did you know _none_ of the businesses he’s tagged have pressed charges? Apparently, having his art on their buildings is good for their sales, even with the complaints they get about not removing it.”

“ _No_ ,” said Harry firmly.

* * *

Other “notes” to Harry had included a frowny face surrounded by rain clouds (Eggsy’s response to Harry’s rejection of his offer for coffee, apparently), a sad-eyed pug (good _lord_ ) and a giant bouquet (oh for the love of _god_ ). With each discovery, Harry could feel his objections slipping. Eggsy was still _far_ too young for him, and of course, engaging in illegal activity--even if it was a mostly harmless sort--but Harry had to admit Eggsy’s determination was rather flattering.

Honestly, Harry was tempted to say yes to Eggsy's invitation if only to get the rest of the precinct to stop teasing him about having caught the eye of a street artist half his age. It certainly had nothing to do with Eggsy being handsome and charming (and he  _was_  a rather talented artist).

As he turned down Market Street, he wondered what today’s was.

“There you are!” exclaimed Roxy, waving at him. “Wait til you see it. He’s outdone himself.”

Harry sighed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what counted as ‘outdoing’ an enormous painted bouquet of roses, but judging from Roxy’s wicked grin, it was bound to be something embarrassing.

 _Well, she wasn’t wrong,_ he thought as he took in the wall of the boutique. What had once been plain cement brick was now covered in a bright flock of butterflies. Butterflies of all shapes and sizes, flying across the wall, swooping around each other.

“What I want to know is,” came Merlin’s voice over the walkie, “how did he _know_?”

Harry glared at the butterflies for a moment. “I have an idea,” he muttered darkly, striding in the direction he’d come from back to his patrol car.

He drove to his house, and, as he’d thought, Eggsy sat on his front stoop, lounging against the railing.

“Hello, Harry of my heart,” Eggsy called as Harry got out of his car. “I see you got my message. Did you like it?”

“Tell me,” Harry ordered, ignoring Eggsy’s question, “how did you know about the butterflies?”

Eggsy tilted his head and his shit-eating grin softened into something warmer and more genuine. “You _did_ like it,” he declared, obviously pleased.

“Did you _break into_ my house?” Harry demanded.

Eggsy shook his head emphatically as he scrambled to his feet. “ _No_ , Harry,” he replied firmly. “I would _never_ do that. I just peeked in the window, here.” He gestured to the window right off the stoop, whose curtains were open just enough to allow one to see the butterfly collection on the opposite wall.

“What were you _doing_ at my house?” Harry asked. “And just how do you know where I live?”

“My mum works in the flower shop down the street,” Eggsy replied. “I saw you walking home from the park the other day. I stopped by to say hi.”

“I didn’t hear the bell.”

“Lost my nerve. But I couldn’t resist peekin’ in, and then I saw your butterflies and knew I had to paint them for you.”

“So, you’re admitting to defacing the boutique, then?” Harry asked, raising a brow and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Aw, come on, Harry,” Eggsy replied, smiling again, “you know it’ll never stick. I’m too good.”

“You art, perhaps, if not your behavior.”

Eggsy’s smile warmed as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, which Harry suddenly noticed were a bit tighter than generally considered acceptable. “I’m glad you liked them,” Eggsy said shyly. “They were for you, after all.”

“Eggsy,” Harry sighed, “why do you keep doing this?”

Eggsy hopped down the steps and stood right in front of Harry. “‘Cause you’re gorgeous,” he declared bluntly. “And I want to take you to dinner or somethin’.”

Harry could feel the blush creeping up his neck. “You _do_ know it can’t happen,” he said. “For goodness’ sake, Eggsy, I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Well fit, though,” Eggsy shrugged dismissively, with an appreciative glance at Harry’s crossed arms. He peeked up through his lashes at Harry. “You don’t _mind_ that I like you, do you? I’ll stop if it’s really making you uncomfortable.”

Harry sighed and moved his hands back to his sides. “No, I don’t _mind_ ,” he said honestly. “But if you insist on this… _wooing_ , I’d rather you went about it in more _legal_ ways.”

“Well, then,” Eggsy replied with a satisfied nod. “Will you go out with me, Harry?”

“Will you stop with all this… _street art_?”

Eggsy grinned up at him. “Well, of course,” he said, as though it were obvious. “Can’t risk gettin’ arrested if my boyfriend’s a copper. Don’t wanna be handcuffed by anyone but you, Harry.” His grin turned saucy as he waggled his eyebrows. “And even that won’t be ‘til after we talk safewords.”

“Oh, good god,” Harry murmured as he wearily rubbed a hand across his face. “I’m going to regret this.”

“No, you won’t.” Eggsy hesitantly reached for Harry’s other hand and gently tangled their fingers together.

“Yes, I will,” Harry replied, gently squeezing Eggsy’s hand. “Merlin is going to be completely _insufferable_.”

 


End file.
